


Taking Care of You

by magebird



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Bondage, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, F/M, Face Slapping, Femdom, Gags, Handcuffs, Pegging, Rough Sex, Scratching, Suit Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 04:06:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magebird/pseuds/magebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was something weirdly erotic about the tight constriction around his neck, the taut length of fabric binding him to her, and he let himself lean back into it a little, not struggling against it but letting it hold him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking Care of You

**Author's Note:**

> Kinkmeme fill: [Arthur discovers that contrary to her appearance and how she usually acted, Ariadne could be very rough when she wants to be. Dub-con with Ariadne topping kthx](http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/756.html?thread=350708#t350708)

He was half asleep in the depths of the warehouse where they'd set up shop this time. It was cleaner than the last one, and more brightly lit in daylight with wide windows near the very tops of the walls. The space was completely open, with no interior walls, but they'd partitioned the space somewhat using tables and chairs, marking out an area _here_ for planning levels and a section _there_ populated with cheap recliners and locked metal briefcases.

Arthur's head was pillowed on his arms, resting atop a pile of papers that he should have sorted and shredded hours ago before heading home. His eyes were closed, and his thoughts wandered vaguely, the half-awake state before dreams. It had been an exhausting day, but his mind was more worn out that his body and the nervous, physical energy was keeping him awake even when he longed for sleep. The others had all headed home hours ago, he figured, since he didn’t hear them moving around the space. These kind of stupors were common after extended time in dreams, he knew, and the best remedy was bed, but that meant rousing his fatigued mind to go. But he’d spent the last few nights half-sleeping here, at his desk, and he didn’t have the energy or wherewithal to get up and find his keys.

A clear footstep made his nerves crackle to attention, and he realized as he heard another that they were heading straight for him—light, swift, the sharp tapping of heels on concrete—and then before he could raise his head to look someone’s hand was pressing down on the back of his neck. The fingers were cool, slim, and squeezed just a little tighter than was comfortable.

“You’re not taking care of yourself,” she—well, purred was the only word that could describe the delicious sound to her voice. It was heavier than Ariadne’s usual bright, fresh timbre, and Arthur frowned against the papers on the desk, his eyes wide and looking off into the dark recesses of the warehouse. His muscles tensed, and he made as if to sit up and shake her off, but her fingers tightened, sharply, and he stopped pressing against her with a small surprised whimper. Those nails _hurt!_

“Shhh…” Ariadne breathed, and as she leaned down he saw that she was wearing a black shirt, skintight to her wrists and silky as her body pressed against his back and brushed the nape of his neck, “Don’t say anything. You’re too tired to think straight.”

 _He_ wasn’t thinking straight?! Arthur almost lurched up then, her nails in his skin be damned, but almost as if she could read his thoughts the hand on his neck—her right-- pressed down harder, grinding his cheek against the desk. Ariadne’s left hand snaked down past his cheek and across his throat, exposed somewhat as he leaned awkwardly, bent forwards over his workspace. Her fingers found his tie and tugged at it, loosening it as much as she could with him still held down. There was something both clinical and extremely sensual in the motion, and he swallowed suddenly, the tiniest twinge of fear struck him.

They’d played little games before, flirting back and forth across the room, sparring with fleeting touches and coy words, and they’d even gone so far as to leave easer eggs for one another in the dreamscapes they designed. Teasing jokes, occasional kisses, but always very tame and very chaste. Arthur would have been happy to take things further, but Ariadne had seemed… Reluctant every time he pressed the issue, and he’d been content to leave it at that. Workplace relationships were problematic, in any case.

But this… He didn’t know what to think. His exhausted brain couldn’t quite keep up with the shivers she was sending down his spine with her hands on him, her fingers exploring the exposed patch of skin at his throat.

She felt him swallow against nervously, and he could almost feel the smile as she molded herself to his back, her hair slipping heavily to block his view as she kissed the bare space just above her biting fingers. Then, the hand near his throat moved to snatch up his tie, and she yanked him up like it was a leash, dragging him around so he was twisted in the chair, facing her.

Ariadne was wearing a black blouse with delicate, lacy ruffles at the high collar that clung in all sorts of beautiful ways to her breasts and waist. The sleeves were nearly skintight, stretching from shoulder to wrists, and semi-sheer, like the material nylon stockings were made of, giving him a glimpse of the silhouette of her arms. The skirt was one he’d complimented before, black and flouncy, coming to mid-thigh on most days, but she’d appeared to have hiked it up, so it showed a strip of creamy flesh at the top of her black, lace-topped stockings. He thought he caught a glimpse of a garter belt holding them up, but then she jerked his tie again, yanking it up and nearly choking him.

His hands flew up to try and stop her, but there was a fierce glower in her eyes and she said in a tone that left no room for argument, “Don’t move. Hands at your sides.”

Hesitantly, Arthur let his hands fall back to his sides, and concentrated on breathing around the tie biting into his throat. There was something weirdly erotic about the tight constriction around his neck, the taut length of fabric binding him to her, and he let himself lean back into it a little, not struggling against it but letting it hold him.

Ariadne noticed, and he sensed slight approval in her tone as she continued, “You haven’t been sleeping, and you look like death. You are obviously incapable of taking care of yourself right now, so I’m going to take care of you instead.” Her brows knit slightly and she added, “You’re _mine_ and I’m not letting you hurt yourself by neglecting your health.”

For a second, he would have called the statement one of tenderness or concern, then she suddenly pulled hard on his necktie, pulling him out of the chair and onto all fours on the concrete ground.

“Eyes on the ground,” she said before he could try and lift his head. He kept his face bowed, heart beating like a rabbit’s. The pressure on his throat slackened, and he sensed rather than saw Ariadne crouch in front of him. Her hands appeared in his field of view as she went for the buttons of his shirt, fussing to unbutton it for a moment before growing impatient and yanking the shirt open, exposing his skin to the cool air and sending a button skittering off into who knew where. Goosebumps rippled across his chest.

He opened his mouth to speak, to ask something, but she silenced him by grabbing his chin, tilting his head up to press her lips to his. The kiss was fierce and commanding, and he felt warmth spread across his body, centering in his cock. They’d kissed before, many, many times, but never like this, never with her eyes locked with his, infecting him with lust and… A certain terror.

“Don’t say a word,” she growled when she released him, and then shoved him so he toppled back, barely saving himself from cracking his head against the concrete by flinging an arm around to catch himself. Ariadne looked at him for a long moment, a smile twitching her lips, and he realized he was lying back with his legs spread wide, with her kneeling between them. All at once she attacked his belt, and he groaned as she unbuckled it roughly, then yanked open his button and fly in one jerk of her hands. Panic struck—she was ruining his clothes—and then her hand closed around his hardening cock and for a second the edges of his vision went white-hot.

It was impossible to maintain his usually carefully manicured control as Ariadne wrapped her slim fingers around the length of his cock and slid them up, squeezing a little around the sensitive mushroom head. He let his head tilt back and bucked a little, trying to get her to bring her hand back down, to increase the pressure, but she stilled, and he looked up to see her grinning wickedly.

“Get up,” she said, rising gracefully to her feet (yes, definitely garters, he confirmed in a daze,) and he scrambled up to follow her, clutching at his pants to keep them above his knees. She gave them a disparaging look, “Leave those.”

She started off towards the recliners, and Arthur hastily shed his trousers, leaving them crumpled on the floor and trotted after her in nothing but his ruined shirt and boxers.

Ariadne was rummaging in a small duffle bag beside the largest of the chairs, and when he arrived she turned around to face him with that wicked grin still on her face. “Lie down.”

Arthur sat in the chair, leaning back a little and trying to keep his own grin from spreading across his face. The look on her face made his excitement falter a moment, however, and she said in an undertone, “Face down, hands behind your back.”

He hesitated. He’d been willing to play along with this game thus far, figuring that Ariadne just wanted to play a little rough, but they were reaching the point that his doubts outweighed his arousal, and he opened his mouth to protest. Almost instant her hand flashed out and slapped him across the face. The blow burned, transmuting into a slow heat that spread across his face. Still reeling, he barely resisted as Ariadne dragged him up again by the tie—he wouldn’t have thought such a small person could yank him around so easily—and shoved him face-down into the leather of the chair. He tensed as she grabbed his wrists and pulled them around to the small of his back. He felt something snap across his wrists—and a shock of cold metal told him they were handcuffs.

That was it. That was a limit he wasn’t willing to cross so abruptly—But the second he opened his mouth to protest she had shoved something between his lips and teeth. In an instant he recognized it as a ball-gag, and though there was a cold dread settling in the pit of his stomach, his cock hadn’t flagged in the least.

Ariadne’s hand slipped under his hips, and tugged gently, and he automatically lifted up, tucking his legs under him a little more to try and give her better access to his aching dick. But, her hands didn’t slip into his boxers again—Instead she reached around to pull them down over his upraised ass, slipping down to his bent knees. He grunted around the gag, wriggling a little, and Ariadne bent down over his back, smoothing a hand across his forehead and hair soothingly.

“Shhh,” she whispered in Arthur’s ear, “I’m going to take care of you.”

She turned the whisper into a light nip on his earlobe, and then leaned back up, dragging her hands along his back, her nails leaving little bright lines of discomfort along his spine. Somehow that seemed to make his arousal even worse and he wanted her hands on him again, harder. He leaned back a little, hoping she would take the hint and touch his dick, but suddenly she stepped away, and he heard her rummaging in that duffle bag again. He tried to twist around to see what she was doing, but all he could see was the occasional flicker of movement at the corner of his eyes, and then she settled in behind him.

Her hand slid down his ass, and one of her fingers slipped into his crack, pressing against his hole lightly. Arthur’s eyes widened, and he stiffened in more way than one.

“Relax,” she purred, withdrawing her hand. Something cold and wet suddenly slid along his crack, and her fingers followed, massaging it in and towards his hole. Instinctively he clenched down, squeezing his eyes shut and making a distressed sound deep in his throat. It made no different too Ariadne, however, and she continued to slip her finger up and down his crack, adding more lube and pressing slowly, steadily against his hole.

Throughout it all, his cock continued to hang, hard and needy, between his legs. As she pressed harder, Ariadne reached down to slide her hand once down the length of it, and the shock of the pleasure made him relax enough that one slim finger slipped past his entrance and—inside—him—

Arthur squeezed his eyes tighter shut, whimpering as her hand worked his cock and that finger pressed gently deeper. He barely noticed as she added a second finger, and her rhythm on his dick matched the agonizingly slow pace of her penetration in his ass. It was terribly intrusive, and he kept clenching spasmodically around his fingers, but the pleasure on his cock was driving him to distraction and he found himself rocking back and forth a little, driving her deliciously deeper inside him.

Suddenly her fingers slipped out, and his ass clenched against the emptiness, then something thick and blunt was pushing against his entrance, and his eyes fluttered open as he let out a yelp of shock.

Where the _hell_ had she gotten a strap-on--?!

But all at once that dildo drove deep enough into him to strike something that made his cock twitch wonderfully, and he couldn’t resist anymore, just moaned and arched his back as her hand kept up that sweet rhythm on his cock.

Everything seemed to move both too fast and too slow. He wanted her deeper, wanted her hand to move faster, wanted the weirdly erotic humiliation of having a cock inside him to end already, but his thoughts were racing too quickly to fall into their usual organization. All he could focus on was the growing pressure in his balls, the bite of the handcuffs into his wrists, the pleasure jolting through his ass to his cock, his racing heart and jerky breathing.

“That’s right, bitch,” Ariadne said, right in his ear, sweet and low, and her words sent a shock through him that was somewhere on the border of pleasure and fear, “Come on. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

There was an orgasm building, a wave growing larger inside him, about to crest, and he gasped for breath around the gag, feeling Ariadne’s hand slick precum up and down the length of his dick in ever-swifter strokes.

“Want to cum?” she asked, wicked, leaning along the length of his arched back, her lips moving against the nape of his neck. She reached around to tweak one of his nipples with the hand not stroking his cock, and the pain was only a sensation, driving him towards the threshold, her hand jerking him towards the edge with slick, harsh strokes.

He could only groan, as the cock in his ass slid in and out in time with the pressure on his cock, and he was about to fall apart, to explode—

“Cum now,” Ariadne said, and her teeth closed hard against the soft skin between neck and shoulder—Colorless light exploded across his sight, and he let out a wild sort of cry, bucking into her hand, driving her strap-on deeper inside him in an overwhelming flood of pleasure as his climax drove through him like a kick.

The aftershocks made him shudder, and he was so wrapped up in the physical sensation that he barely grunted as Ariadne tugged the lube-slicked cock out of his ass and his legs collapsed so he was lying prone on the leather recliner. For a moment the only sensation was his own breathing, and then he felt Ariadne tugging at the cuffs on his wrists, and a moment later they came loose, and he dropped his hand to his sides with a grunt. His shoulders ached from struggling against them.

The gag loosened next, and he spat it out, panting more freely, eyes closed. A moment later Ariadne came down beside him, curling up along his side, her face tucked into the crook of his shoulder, her teeth marks still stinging a little on the skin. She flung one arm over his back, a protective gesture.

As the pleasure of the orgasm faded, sheer, bone-heavy exhaustion started to take its place, and Arthur’s breathing slowed. He opened his eyes enough to see Ariadne watching him with a satisfied expression, then closed them again. He sensed tears on his lashes, cold on his cheeks.

He didn’t wake for a long, long time.


End file.
